Frantically, I loaded salmon and cream cheese fillings onto the rice, wrapped it up in a nori sheet and then drizzled duck sauce over the top, accidentally spraying some droplets on the table. Having already prepared the boba milk tea drink, I quickly cut the sushi roll, stuck the order form to the tray and waited nervously, anticipating the customer’s critique of my performance.

Wanting to revisit one of my favorite early-elementary school online games: the Papa’s food preparation series, (which I can shamelessly admit that I was slightly addicted to) I had searched up the different versions available. In each game, the player tries to quickly prepare a food item through a series of repetitive motions, such as clicking at a certain time or placing toppings in specified places. 

The Papa games all follow a practically identical storyline: a character is unexpectedly hired for a job after experiencing an incident that results in him or her desperately needing money. They also have the same basic structure of four stations — taking a customer’s order (first station), completing the individual steps to prepare the food/drink (second, third and fourth stations) and then serving it to the customer. Many of the rounds also feature minigames afterward (like mini races, hamburger stacking and baseball batting) for which you can receive prizes.

Although choosing between the 13 different games, including Papa’s Freezeria, Papa’s Burgeria and Papa’s CupCakeria was agonizingly difficult, I ultimately chose Papa’s Sushiria due to my passionate love for sushi. 

I remember trying to make sushi at home for my family during my sophomore year. Somehow the sauce had turned into a solid mass in the pan and the fillings had oozed out of the nori. Seeing the sushi version of Papa’s games, I vowed that it would enliven my true expertise.

It started off well. I was about to abandon college apps and become a professional sushi chef when tragedy struck. My shop got more and more crowded as I leveled up; the increased number of customers brought me desperation and overwhelming stress as I tried to complete their orders quickly, efficiently and accurately to appease them and to get more tips.

One of the worst rounds occurred when I kept forgetting to flip the nori sheets for annoying customers who requested the rice on the outside of the roll instead of the inside. As a result, I received poorer ratings and fewer tips, simply because I had taken an “unreasonable” amount of time to prepare the food since I kept on having to throw it away.

I thought that Papa’s Sushiria would be a relaxing break from schoolwork, but it was an endeavor that required intense concentration, mental willpower, finger dexterity and time management. I had to press buttons at exactly the right time and spread toppings evenly because apparently every single sushi piece had to be identical down to the amount of carrot inside (which doesn't make sense since who even puts carrots in sushi?)

Eventually, the exhaustion wore me down and I was forced to try a different Papa game.

Having never seen Papa’s Freezeria or Papa’s Bakeria before, I decided to play the first round of each. Although I was preparing different foods, it seemed like I was playing the same game over and over again … and in reality, I was. 

I remember constantly playing Papa’s TacoMia in my childhood, as every round meant earning more “money” that I could use to buy decorations for my shop and clothes for my character. In the end, my character probably had more clothes in her wardrobe than I had in my real-life closet — and she was likely also more stylish.

Playing that game sucked up valuable time from my first and second-grade self — time that I could have spent playing with toys or finding a cure for cancer. However, I likely learned critical life skills like keeping track of multiple tasks at once and carefully following directions.

Also, I am much better at making tacos than I am at making sushi, so maybe I have to thank Papa’s TacoMia for that. 

While I will not continue playing Papa’s games due to their unoriginality and repetitiveness, I’m honored to say that I was once a loyal follower who had advanced up the ranks in many of the [insert name]ias. Papa … I hope I made you proud.